


Sweet Dreams

by GretchenSinister



Series: GretchenSinister's Second Blacksand Week [5]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, get it Sandy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23113609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Dreamsand is sweet, but Sandy’s sweeter. Blatantly NSFW.
Relationships: Pitch Black/Sanderson Mansnoozie
Series: GretchenSinister's Second Blacksand Week [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660444
Kudos: 16
Collections: Blacksand Short Fics





	Sweet Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 11/14/2013.

Behavior unbecoming of a Nightmare King. That’s what this was, thought Pitch, as he held Sandy close to him with one arm, holding his little wrist in his other hand, bending his head down to meet Sandy’s hand with his mouth. Very, very unbecoming.

With infinite care, he ran his tongue over Sandy’s palm, tracing every crease and line, before moving on to gently suck on each of his perfectly formed, delicate fingers. He had managed to catch Sandy just as he was completing his nightly work, and so a faint dusting of dreamsand still clung to every inch of his skin, and Pitch was determined to consume every intoxicating mote.

The first time he had tasted dreamsand, it had been purely by accident. Slashing through one of Sandy’s whips, the dreamsand had flown off in all directions, and some had wound up in his mouth. He had expected it to be gritty, but instead it melted sweetly on his tongue, sweeter than anything he had ever tasted in his life, yet not at all cloying. He had stopped his attack in shock, feeling the sweetness spread from his tongue up to his mind and skirl through his body, feeling almost like an electric shock, yet leaving behind paths of languor rather than pain. He shivered. With that one moment, he no longer wanted to destroy the Sandman. He wanted to make him _his_.

For years afterward, he had captured and consumed dreamsand when he could. Sometimes, when it was dreamsand that Sandy had been trying to use against him, it burned on his tongue, but the feeling of the warmth running down his throat brought reciprocal heat to his face. It was pure joy and, then, purely forbidden.

Eventually, without fully realizing what he was contemplating, he began to think of what it would be like to lick dreamsand not from the empty air but from warm, living flesh. He thought of the Sandman’s shock at such an idea, and knew well this wasn’t what he was supposed to want, wasn’t what his role led him to desire, and so he tried to resist for a time. But with a glimpse of Sandy he was lost. He wondered what color the Sandman would blush. He wondered if the Sandman had a pulse. He wondered if the Sandman’s pulse would speed under the attentions of his mouth. He wondered if Sandy’s skin would be even sweeter than his sand.

He wondered about other possible sweetnesses too, that sent his blood rushing not only to his face.

The next time he had seen Sandy after that, he had surrendered immediately, babbling of the things he wanted, begging shamelessly for a taste of dreamsand from Sandy’s own hands. Sandy had left him without a word, without a symbol, then, and Pitch cursed himself. He had lost both his dignity and his chance to obtain what he most desired.

But then, the following night, Sandy had smiled at him as he had finished his nightly rounds, and allowed himself to be captured within the simple circle of Pitch’s arms.

And now, as Pitch acted not as a Nightmare King but as a dream addict, laving the dreamsand off Sandy’s hands and pressing his tongue flat against the pale gold of the soft, vulnerable skin of the insides of Sandy’s wrists, he discovered that the Sandman did indeed have a pulse, and this pulse did indeed quicken with the touch of his tongue.

And when the dreamsand was gone and only the skin remained, he discovered that, yes, Sandy was even sweeter than his dreamsand, though Pitch could not think at the moment whether this was solely in his taste or in the way he was warm and trembling beneath his lips, the way his eyes had gone dark and desperate when Pitch had stopped nibbling at his neck for a moment to look down at him.

“Sandy,” Pitch whispered, “will you take off your pajamas? I,” he kissed one corner of his mouth, “want,” and then the other, “more.” He briefly licked along the inside of Sandy’s lips and Sandy’s hands clenched around his biceps almost painfully. With a convulsive flash they were in Dreamland, on a bed too long for the Sandman but just right for a guest Pitch’s height, and Sandy’s clothes were scattered formlessly among the sheets.

Pitch wondered if this meant that Sandy had been thinking about such an encounter for some time too, but he was soon distracted by Sandy pulling him down to kiss him on the mouth. Sandy pushed his tongue into Pitch’s mouth, and though Pitch moaned at the delectable tastetextureslicknesswarmth, he didn’t want the eager Sandy to take over just yet. He broke the kiss and smiled down on Sandy, licking his own bottom lip. “I’m not done yet, sweetling. Especially as, here, we have all the time in the world.”

Sandy blushed with light and Pitch bent down to begin his journey over the curves of Sandy’s shoulders, the petal-like skin of his arms, the smooth expanses of his chest and belly. He kissed every sparkling freckle on his back, nuzzled his pert, peachy buttocks, and softly bit at his hips. So lost was he in tasting and touching Sandy’s body that he did not even consciously ignore the confused begging in dreamsand appearing and disappearing over Sandy’s head, though the cock standing thick and proud between his legs made his desires clear enough.

Pitch left it for the moment though, in favor of learning all the broad curves of Sandy’s calves and thighs, as well as all more delicate changes that only his tongue could detect. Even when Sandy wrapped his legs around his head to try to get him to move faster, higher, anything, he maintained his maddeningly slow and thorough exploration. Sandy was delicious and smooth and firm and hot under his mouth, and as a being so rarely given an opportunity to indulge himself, Pitch wasn’t about to rush things.

Finally, he reached the more intimate places on Sandy’s body he had been saving, laughing lowly against his skin as he found them sweet as well, though in a different way, and Sandy gasped as Pitch’s tongue roamed over all the sensitive places he had never even thought of as being worthy of such attention.

After this, when Pitch pressed the first kiss to the side of his cock, Sandy hoped that relief might finally be soon at hand, but, Pitch’s actions remained luxuriously slow, delighting in Sandy’s erection rather than trying to make him come in a focused way.

Pitch kissed his way over Sandy’s shaft, ending each kiss with the briefest of licks, and still finding sweetness here made his own cock throb, but he ignored it. Sandy was his focus now, Sandy was his feast. In slow licks he let himself feel the hot, living hardness of his cock, pausing now and then to just enjoy the pulse of Sandy’s veins against his tongue. He swept his tongue around the head, dipped the tip into the slit, and could not help but let out a bit of a groan when he found the liquid already beading there nectar-sweet as well. And still he did not hurry. He pressed his lips to the very tip, letting them roll and spread around the head, suckling only lightly as he used his tongue to memorize the shape of it within his mouth.

Meditatively, he opened his mouth wider to move farther down, and felt Sandy’s hips tremble under his palms as he fought to keep himself still. His mouth filled, Pitch relished the stretch he felt in his jaw, the throbbing heat of the silky-skinned flesh against his tongue. He wondered if he could move yet further down. He wanted all of Sandy, did he not? With a slide that was not so great in absolute distance, he suddenly had all of Sandy’s cock in his mouth, in his throat. He swallowed around him once, twice, and felt Sandy’s little hands grasp helplessly at his hair.

This could grow to be an even worse addiction than dreamsand, he knew—Sandy hot and hard at his mercy. But now—now it was time for him to delight this being of delight, and he began to suck and swallow in earnest, bobbing his head up and down in time with firm finger-presses against Sandy’s entrance, stroking his belly with his other hand, and making eye contact with the dreamweaver when he could. Under such ministrations, it wasn’t long before Sandy came, and as he did, Pitch drew back so that only the head of his cock remained within his mouth, wanting all that Sandy had to offer to pulse and splash thickly over his tongue.

The unbearable sweetness of it and the feel of it sliding down his throat blood-warm and slow as honey as he swallowed, combined with the dazed, sated, loving look on Sandy’s face was enough to make him come with a moan as well, quick and untouched as he buried his burning face in Sandy’s shoulder.

“Sandy, I want to stay,” he murmured when he had regained some of his composure. He curled around him, kissing the place behind his ear. “You’re gorgeous, you’re addictive, I want to do that again, want to do that every day, I’m a glutton for you, I’m greedy, and I don’t care.”

Sandy turned in the circle of his arms to face him, eyes half-open and wide smile growing wider. _You can stay_ , he signed, the shapes blurred with relaxation. He combed his fingers through Pitch’s night-dark hair and pressed a small kiss to Pitch’s nose. _But don’t think that you’re the only greedy one here._

**Author's Note:**

> Tags and Comments from Tumblr:
> 
> #sorry this is a day late
> 
> whentheoceanmetsky said: [high pitched screaming] [dogs howl in distance]
> 
> bowlingforgerbils said: holy bananas. That was amazing.
> 
> marypsue said: Help no this is too much. If you need me I’ll be in a puddle of goo on the floor.


End file.
